In and out. In and out. In and out.
After years of stitching himself back up, it should sting at least a
little less. Next time someone brings him to life, he's asking for some more durable outer parts. Or at least some kind of healer of a friend. Doing this stuff without medicine isn't exactly his idea of a perfect night.
In and out. In and out.
At least none of his stuffing had come out today. Shoving it back in is embarrassing and leaves him feeling dirty from his insides leaving, well, his inside. It doesn't vaguely hurt like sewing himself up does, but it still isn't fun.
In and out.
The one who brought him to life this time had run off. Apparently, she'd thought herself doing charity work. Said she'd heard about his 'predicament' and that he was free to do what he wanted from now on. She didn't give him time to explain that he was the one to beg someone to turn him back into simple stuffing and cloth.
Make a knot.
She ran off, and now .whatnot. is stuck alive, magic-less and tired. He constantly gets caught on items. He constantly has to put up with the gawking of those amazed at his very existence. He constantly wishes that he could voice his wish for a discontinued conscious.
Snip off the end.
Not everything is gloomy, at least. He's been working on developing scents. Adding perfumes and different aromas to his cloth influences those around him. Others are much less frightened after two drops of lavender essence. And some even hire him to stay with them throughout the night so they can sleep soundly. It's easy work and easy money.
Sewing supplies aren't cheap, after all.
Credits
profile |
Paula :: story |
jacketyjackjack :: overlay |
frederick :: background graphics |
color lovers :: font |
dafont
Custom Graveyard Warador
